


Wherein the Kirks are shiny

by kayliemalinza



Series: Rambleverse [29]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Years (Rambleverse Timeline), Drunkenness, Five Times Kirk Stole a Kiss (Rambleverse subseries), Gen, Kayliemalinza's Rambleverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-27
Updated: 2010-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 23:19:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayliemalinza/pseuds/kayliemalinza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the "Five Times Kirk Stole a Kiss" subseries of Rambleverse (but beware, I am tricksy.)</p><p> </p><p>Excerpt:<br/>Obviously the skirt is way too poofy to be practical but, as Winona told Jim while she was scrubbing the engine grease from under her nails this afternoon, she's off-duty and it's a party so practicality can take a hike. Jim agreed to a point, that point being a reasonable concern for safety, and he had the advantage of being totally right so it only took twenty minutes to convince her to swap out her aluminum stilettos for no-slip boots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wherein the Kirks are shiny

Winona's standing on the marble steps, flash and welcome like a space buoy. Even from across the ballroom Jim can see light glinting off the flex-crystal flowers braided through her hair. He knows her dress has a delicate pattern to it, tangled-up strands of red, yellow, and green, but from over here she looks like a golden goblet plunked upside down. It's mostly the skirt.

Obviously the skirt is way too poofy to be practical but, as Winona told him while she was scrubbing the engine grease from under her nails this afternoon, she's off-duty and it's a party so practicality can take a hike. Jim agreed to a point, that point being a reasonable concern for safety, and he had the advantage of being totally right so it only took twenty minutes to convince her to swap out her aluminum stilettos for no-slip boots.

That turned out to be a good plan, by the way. Some ancient commodore spilled his drink on the steps earlier and even though most marble these days has been coated to prevent slipperiness, Jim doesn't want to take any chances. Speaking of which, Jim isn't altogether comfortable with the way that skirt is obscuring Winona's view of the dangerously varied elevations she's treading on. Stairs can kill, you know.

He minnows his way through the crowd and gets within range just as Winona is swallowing the last bite of an _hors d'oeuvre_ that smells strongly of copper.

"Heeeeey, sweetheart," she says, licking the blue smudge from her fingers. "You look spiffy."

"Thanks." Jim is wearing the standard cadet dress-greys but he handsomed up with some eyeliner, although it makes him look faintly evil for reasons he can't quite put a finger on. "You're gorgeous," he adds, and does a quick follow-up while she's still beaming from the compliment: "Need a hand?"

She gives him a little head-tilt like she knows exactly what his game is, but she doesn't protest. Instead of stepping down, though, she squeezes the arm he offers like she's testing the strength of it. He's not offended by that. It's just habit by this point, probably, because maybe a handshake isn't used to check for daggers up sleeves anymore but that's just details.

"Stay still, Jim," she says. "You're just the right height for me to do this." The bulk of her skirt presses stiffly against his legs when she leans forward to put her lips, thin and over-warm, just above his left eye.

He expects her to pull away long before she does. If he were younger, every second would feel like something stolen, like his greediness had filled him up so much that it seeped right out of his pores and turned into glue. But he's an adult, now, and emotionally stable to boot, so he doesn't scowl or nuzzle when she pulls away.

Winona pushes herself upright and gathers her balance around her again like an overlarge towel after coming in from the rain. She cups the side of his face and strokes her thumb against his eyebrow. "I left a lipstick mark," she says. Her mouth splits open impishly. "But I'm not going to wipe it off because I'm Glinda the Good Witch, and I've left my mark on you, Dorothy. No-one in Oz will dare hurt you now." She grins at him for a few seconds too long, slightly wall-eyed.

"Mom?" Jim says. "How drunk are you?"

"That's rude," she says, and isn't too drunk, apparently, because it only takes her two tries to successfully tap his nose in admonishment.

Still, she'd be so upset if she embarrassed herself in front of the assorted decorated officers, or tore her dress, so Jim is going to exercise his talent for taking initiative.

"Alley oop," he says, and twirls her off the steps.

Winona shrieks in delight and beats her fists against his chest like he's a villain from a romance vid, and the only possible response to that is to grabs her wrists, so he does. Winona sighs and rests her head against his shoulder, perfectly in character. "Aw, shucks," she mumbles. "Dorothy's all grown up."

"That's not so bad, is it?" Jim says, then hurries on before she can answer: "Come on, I want you to say hi to the Cowardly Lion. He's over by the bar."

"Bar's a good idea," says Winona, and because she's a feisty Midwestern gal who can hold her liquor, she pulls herself upright. Then she hooks her arm in his because a gal can be a lady, too.

Bones gives Jim an odd once-over when they reach him but gets distracted by Winona's easy flattery and doesn't say anything about the lipstick on Jim's forehead.

Maybe Jim forgets about it, too, and maybe he doesn't, but either way the Good Witch's mark stays put for the rest of the night.


End file.
